


it's summer! there's prompts!

by notveryglittery (darlingdany)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Curses, Family Bonding, M/M, Magic, Monopoly (Board Game), Potions, Sanders Sides Prompt Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdany/pseuds/notveryglittery
Summary: check outsanders sides prompt summerif you'd like to join! content can be made however you like!





	1. prompt #1

**Author's Note:**

> monday june 11th's prompt was:  
> “Roman, use your powers for good, not evil!”
> 
> no warnings that i can think of!

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Virgil asked, wringing his hands together, and casting another glance over the room. He’d been on the edge of an attack for the last fifteen minutes and he wasn’t sure how much longer before it caught up to him.

Patton, ever observant, ever sweet Patton, seemed to realize this. He placed careful, gentle hands on Virgil’s shoulders, and worked on massaging the stress out of them. “Trust me, kiddo. I’ve got it all planned out. Lo even helped with the worst case scenarios!” 

Virgil was quickly relaxing under Patton’s ministrations but that didn’t mean he was going to stop worrying _immediately_. “Are you sure?” He repeated. “ _Every_ worst case scenario? I bet I can think of some that you two missed.” 

Patton hummed. “I know that and it’s just one of the many things I love about you.” Virgil blushed at the affection but didn’t say anything. “You’re always looking out for us. Just this one time, though.” His tone lowered, pleading, as he leaned forward, and rested his chin on top of Virgil’s head. “Can you trust that I have it under control?” 

Virgil trusted Patton more than anyone and so his answer was swift, despite the panic still buzzing underneath his skin. “I trust you.” 

Patton dropped a kiss into his hair and drew back, hoping to have eased his dark, strange son’s nerves at least a little bit. “I love you, Virge!!” He chirped, before darting up the stairs. 

“Love you, too,” Virgil mumbled after Patton, rubbing his cheeks, as if he could scrub away the heat there. He paced slowly around the room. He let his fingers trail along the top of the television screen. He tapped each fairy light as he passed it. He brushed his hand against the blankets stacked in a pile on the couch. Letting out a long breath through his nose, Virgil left the living room, and headed to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of sweet tea and perched on the counter, keeping his eyes closed, and focusing on calming down, while he drank. 

Half an hour later, the sound of someone singing floated through the halls. Virgil had long since finished his drink and was scrolling through his phone, still sat quite comfortably next to the sink. Roman swung into the archway, so involved in his performance, that Virgil’s presence went completely unnoticed. He was crooning that agony song from _Into the Woods_ , Virgil realized, and… Virgil snickering at Roman’s attempt to nail the duet all on his own alerted the other of his being there.

“Ah!” Roman yelped. “ _You!_ You… Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party!” 

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the fringe of his bangs. “That one’s almost too long to be considered a nickname.” 

Roman huffed, pretending he hadn’t been startled in the first place. “It’s an annual event held at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom! And _you_ are not-so-scary!”

“I know what it is!” Virgil argued; Thomas had gone when he was fourteen. Virgil might not have been quite as prevalent a Side just yet, but he had access still to all memories. “ _And_ I’m plenty scary! Or have you forgotten all those years that you screamed any time I got the jump on you?” He looked smug now, as if he’d won. 

Roman scowled. “Who wouldn’t scream when they get scared?” He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand in Virgil’s direction. Virgil hopped off of the counter while Roman raided the pantry. He put his phone away and hovered near Roman’s elbow, peeking curiously over his shoulder. “What’re you looking for?” He asked and was absolutely thrilled in the tiny flinch he got in response. 

“Quit loitering, you mall rat!” Roman groused, aiming an elbow for Virgil’s side. Virgil, his flight reflex kicking in, dodged it with ease. 

“ _Mall rat?_ ” He asked, hiding a smile behind his hand. 

“Yes!” Roman said, slanting an only half serious glare his way. “Don’t even try telling me that you wouldn’t have been _that_ kid every weekend.” 

“Oh, I’ll admit to that.” Virgil agreed easily before he smirked. “As long as you do, too.” 

Roman spun on the spot, jabbing a finger into Virgil’s chest. “I’ll do no such thing!” 

“Come on, Princey,” Virgil laughed openly this time, following Roman as he stormed out of the kitchen. “Sure, I’d be the emo nightmare, but you’re the popular jock that has nowhere else to hang around with all his football buddies!” 

“While there is no doubt that I would be _quite_ popular,” Roman concurred, “I would be so through _theatre,_ thank you very much.” He flung himself dramatically onto the sofa as if to prove his point. Virgil sat on the arm of the couch, eyeing him for a moment. Roman eventually sat back up and finally looked around the room. “What’s the occasion?” He asked, slipping out of his sash and, with a flourish, disappearing it back to his closet. 

“Patton’s got a surprise.” 

“He _what?!_ ”

Virgil blinked, holding his hands up as a sign of peace. “What?”

Roman scrambled onto his knees, balancing a little unsteadily on the cushions. He pushed towards Virgil and the other grasped the back of the couch so he wouldn’t fall off as he leaned away. “Whoa, Space Invaders, watch the bubble!” 

Roman, grumbling over the nickname, sat back. “Who is Patton surprising?” He demanded, looking equal parts excited and offended. If Virgil had to guess, it was because Roman hadn't been invited to help plan. 

Virgil shrugged, “dunno.” Okay, so maybe that wasn’t _entirely_ true. Virgil had a pretty good idea who Patton had put this all together for but he hadn’t got confirmation. “Guess we’ll find out later.” He offered Roman a cheeky wink before standing back up. He stepped just out of Roman’s reach as the thespian swiped at him in faux anger. 

“Fine!” He all but _wailed_ and Virgil coughed into the sleeve of his hoodie to hide his delight at Roman’s dramatics. “I shall stay here and suffer! The moment I see our favorite little ray of sunshine, I will get it out of him! No matter what!” He gestured wildly, as if swinging an invisible sword.

“Roman, use your powers for good, not evil!” Virgil teasingly admonished. 

Roman paused in his motions, looking as if he were actually taking the time to consider whether or not he was going to sword fight Patton in order to get an answer. Finally, he spoke. “Very well. … Maybe I can bribe him with cookies instead.”


	2. prompt #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Virgil has a bad hair day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none that i can think of :)

The prank war was getting out of hand.

Sure, Roman and Virgil didn’t get along most days. It was easy to assume they downright _hated_ each other. They’d individually gone to the dorm advisors to request new roommates. They’d even gone _together_ as if showing just how visibly hostile they could get would be convincing enough. All their dorm advisor, a bubbly man named Patton, had done was tell them how they had “banter” and “might be frenemies now but soon you’ll be BFF’s!” Since then, Virgil had actually somehow grown closer to Patton than he had Roman. If the sociology major didn’t already have a roommate, Virgil would’ve asked if he could just move in with him. That wouldn’t be fair to Patton’s roommate, though, who also happened to be Virgil’s lab partner. Virgil knew Logan wouldn’t want to be Roman’s roommate either, honestly. Who _did_ want to be Roman’s roommate? … Actually, Remy probably wouldn’t mind him terribly. Who did Remy live with? Maybe he could switch with Remy. 

Anyway, back to the point, Roman and Virgil didn’t get along most days, and the prank war was not helping. It’d started out with small annoyances. Virgil leaving the window open when he left in the morning, knowing how much Roman hated waking up cold. Roman forgetting to lock the door _every damn day_ turning into Roman _intentionally_ not locking the door _every damn day_. Virgil sneaking into the laundry room while Roman did a load of his whites and tossing a single red sock into the wash. Roman hiding Virgil’s headphones. That one had _really_ upset Virgil and so he’d filled Roman’s pillowcases (he had five pillows on his bed, it was ridiculous, but Virgil got each one) with pudding from the dining hall. It got worse from there; pranks that sometimes ended up harmful instead of joking, the rest of the hall had to deal with their loud arguing in the middle of the night. 

“Alright, kiddos,” Patton says once he has them sat down in the lounge. Roman and Virgil both have their arms crossed and they’re wearing scowls. Virgil’s hood is pulled all the way up over his head. “It’s been a couple of weeks now and this is getting out of hand. I was hoping you two could find some things in common despite your differences.” Patton’s using his Dad Voice and Virgil hates it, hates being on the receiving end of it. “Have you tried, at least?” 

Roman scoffs. “Like it’d do any good! He won’t listen to a word I say! No matter what it is!” 

“That’s because 9 times out of 10, it’s you insulting me!” Virgil snaps, hunching further into himself. “Sorry I don’t like the music you do! Sorry I’m not into partying like you are! Sorry I’m just the _worst thing that’s ever happened to you!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Patton says, waving his hands through the air a little desperately. “I don’t think that’s true! Right, Roman?” 

Roman looks a little floored. He’s staring at Virgil like he can’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “You… think that?” 

Virgil rolls his eyes and turns away. “I don’t think it. I _know_ it.” 

Roman’s jaw drops and he swings his gaze back to Patton. He looks panicked. He starts shaking his head and stammering, words spilling from his lips before they’re fully formed. He can’t get a full sentence out. 

“What?” Virgil finally looks back to Roman, glaring. “You do something like _this_ —” He yanks his hood down to reveal bright purple hair. “Of course you hate me!” He stands up so suddenly, his chair clatters noisily to the floor. “I figure you of all people would know that physical appearance is off limits!” Virgil pulls his hood back on and storms out of the room.

Patton looks helplessly between his retreating back and Roman’s crestfallen expression. 

The following week is quiet. There are no pranks. Their neighbors start to wonder what happened and the hall is filled with hushed gossip. Virgil does what he can to keep his hair covered. It’s not a bad hair _day_. It’s many bad hair _days_. He wears beanies or jackets, with the hood constantly pulled up. His professors don’t allow it in class, however. The first day he shows up to Chemistry and is told to take the beanie off, Logan stares at him long and hard. Virgil colors under the attention before finally snapping. 

“ _What?!_ ” 

“It suits you.” 

“… What?” 

Logan offers him a very tiny smile. “The purple matches your whole… aesthetic.” 

Virgil runs a hand through his hair. Roman had put the dye in his shampoo _and_ conditioner. Virgil had tossed the bottles that night, while trying desperately to wash the color out. It hadn’t worked, obviously. Showers were hard to do on a daily basis anyway but now he was probably _over_ washing his hair. His skin was starting to feel dry from constantly taking so many scalding hot showers. “… Thanks,” he says eventually. 

Two days later, Virgil gets back to his dorm, exhausted after a long day of tests. He stops short in the doorway; Roman is pacing the room, muttering to himself. Virgil glares at him. 

“Pardon me, your highness,” he says shortly, trying to step around Roman’s path, and to his bed. Roman startles, as if he hadn’t even noticed Virgil arriving. He grabs him by the arms and Virgil _hisses_ , yanking himself out of Roman’s grasp.

“Sorry!” Roman shouts and Virgil flinches. “Sorry,” Roman says again, quieter, looking progressively more worse for wear. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh.” Virgil says, deadpan. He tosses his bag on the floor, crosses his arms over his chest. “This should be good.” 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of Roman’s mouth. Virgil raises his brows. “I shouldn’t have put hair dye in your shampoo.”

“And conditioner.”

“ _And_ conditioner.” Roman amends. “I shouldn’t have hid your headphones. I should be locking the door. I should respect your personal space and your privacy and your preferences and that you don’t want to go to parties with me. You do have good taste in music! I listened to it in high school!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No— I mean.” Roman starts pacing again, digging his hands into his hair. He’s talking so fast Virgil can barely understand him. “And your fashion sense isn’t bad! It’s unique! And you rock it! I know I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but I picked the purple on purpose. It… matches,” he says, gesturing vaguely in Virgil’s direction. “I’m sorry. Really. Truly. We’re supposed to live together for three more years. I would like for us to be friends. Or… or at least get along. We don’t have to be friends! If you don’t want to. I’d understand, after the way I’ve treated you…” Roman slows finally, to a stop, and stands still in the middle of their room. He keeps his gaze down, wringing his hands together nervously. 

After a long silence, Virgil sighs. Roman’s head shoots up. “Apology accepted.” Virgil looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I’m sorry, too. It didn't help that I retaliated the way I did. You could’ve got sick from me leaving the window open. Ruining those clothes was a waste of money. All that pudding could’ve fed someone else… I…” 

“I look good in pink,” Roman offers. 

Virgil huffs and Roman _thinks_ it’s a laugh. It’s close enough. “Truce?” 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil nods and steps closer. He holds out a hand. “Truce.” 

They shake and smile hesitantly at each other. 

There’s a knock on the door and it opens immediately after. They don’t have time to pull away, both looking towards the intruder in surprise. It’s Patton. His eyes dart to their clasped hands. He positively shrieks with joy. “I’m going to make cookies to celebrate!!!” And just like that, he’s gone, as if whatever he’d planned on telling them before didn’t matter anymore.


	3. prompt #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nope, I'm your mom now," Patton declared.
> 
> warnings: stress, yelling, crying, deceit's there for a bit, angst without a proper fix

Some days were just worse than others and today was one of them. 

Nothing seemed to be going right and for once, Virgil knew it wasn’t _his_ fault. Thomas was just feeling… off. It happened sometimes. It might have just been one of those weird dreams; the kind that left the world a little tilted when you woke up from it. Roman and Remy had promised they hadn’t had anything to do with it and Virgil had believed them because they’d seemed a little panicked themselves. Roman wasn’t very good with even the _idea_ of effecting their host negatively. Remy was very proud in his work and the possibility of dreams getting out of his control was frustrating, to say the least. It might just have been a day to be sad; Virgil had that feeling most mornings but he’d gotten used to them. He went to check on Patton, hoping he wasn’t upset about something and hiding it from them. 

He knocked on Patton’s door, shuffling his feet nervously while waiting for an answer. There was a noise (the sound of something being knocked over) and some muffled made up swear words (Patton _never_ cursed, or never that Virgil had heard, anyway). 

“Pat?” Virgil called, knocking one more time. 

“Be right there, kiddo!” Patton responded, his voice raised just enough for Virgil to hear him. It sounded tight with stress, too, and Virgil frowned. Maybe today was worse than others and Thomas felt off because something had happened to Patton. Virgil’s frown turned into more of a determined line; he squared his shoulders and readied to face whatever he had to in order to help Patton feel better. 

Eventually, the door swung open. Patton was a little out of breath and his hair was disheveled. Still, he was smiling wide and his eyes were bright. “What can I do ya for?” He asked, stepping out of his room and pulling the door mostly shut behind him. 

That was… _slightly_ suspicious and it put Virgil _slightly_ on edge. He decided to cut right to the chase. “Thomas isn't feeling so hot today. I went to see how Roman and Remy are doing and they’re… okay.” If having a break day could be considered _okay_ seeing as Roman never took breaks and Remy would rather do anything but relax. “I wanted to ask how _you’re_ feeling?” Virgil leaned a little closer, trying to determine whether the smile was fake or not. “Since, y’know… you’re the feelings.” 

Patton nodded. “That makes sense. I appreciate you checking on me, Virge!” He sounded sincere but… “Have you talked to Logan yet?” 

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. That feeling of _wrong_ settled heavy in his gut. “You didn’t answer my question.” So far, it was seeming more and more likely that this off day might have something to do with Patton. His fingers twitched which usually led to shaking hands and so he shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie. He couldn’t get all panicky now, not yet, he still had to help Patton. 

“Oops!” Patton giggled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “My bad! I’m doing great, though, kiddo! You don’t have to worry about silly old me!” 

Virgil sighed and gave Patton his best wide, imploring eyes. “Of course I do. It’s kinda my thing.” He leaned over just a bit, trying to see by Patton and into his room through the crack of the door. “What’d you drop earlier?” 

In the blink of an eye, Patton’s entire demeanor changed. “ _Nothing,_ ” he snapped, reaching back and grabbing the handle, slamming the door shut. “And I’d appreciate it if you believed me for once!” Patton was glaring now, full on daggers, and Virgil felt each one directly, wedging itself into his heart. “Ever since _Moving On_ , you all won’t let me have a single bad day without interrogating me about it! Sometimes you just need to stay in bed and watch sad movies and eat ice cream! Is that okay?!” 

Virgil staggered back at Patton’s rising tone. He hoped he was imagining the tears in Patton’s eyes but the hall light wasn’t playing tricks on him. “Patton, I—”

“ _No!_ ” Patton’s voice cracked and he inhaled sharply and it sounded like a sob and Virgil was really starting to panic, because this wasn’t what he’d meant to do, and now he was making things _worse_. “No,” Patton repeated, scrubbing at his cheeks. “Forget it. If you’re looking for someone to blame for how Thomas is feeling today, it’s probably me. That’s fine. I’ll see what I can do.” He sounded cold and tired and like he didn’t want to see what he could do. His shoulders were slumped, like they were carrying a heavy weight. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil rushed, keeping his hands balled into fists in his pockets. His fingernails were digging into his palms and it was starting to sting a little but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as Patton yelling at him just now had. “I’m not looking to blame anyone and even if I was, it _definitely_ wouldn’t be you.” How could Virgil fix this? Did Patton even _want_ his help? It wasn’t like he was any good at cheering people up anyway. “Can I…” He paused, hesitating. 

Patton’s breaths were coming shorter, like he was inches from breaking down. He edged back towards his door, reaching blindly for the handle. “No, Virgil,” and it sounded so _final_ , so much like the end of an argument, and Virgil was terrified, because what if it was the end of _everything else, too?_ “You can’t.” With that, Patton opened the door and disappeared back into his room. 

Silence followed. A hitch of breath, a swallowed down sob, retreating footsteps. 

“That went well.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, Patton, _splendid_ job! I think you handled it perfectly.” 

“Shut _up_.”

“It’d be a shame if he thought it was personal. I wonder if he’s questioning whether or not the two of you are still best friends.” 

“ _Ugh!!_ ” Patton screamed through his teeth. He buried his hands into his hair and tugged. “I can’t leave yet! I have to finish!” The room was in utter disarray: shelves knocked over, books and toys strewn about, the bedding piled on the floor, clothes torn out of the closet. The doors to Memory Lane were flung wide open. The light spilling from it flickered red and black, angry and harsh. “I don’t know why it’s doing that!” Patton said desperately, digging into another chest full of old drawings. 

“Patton.” 

“It’s been like this since Thomas went to bed last night! I didn’t get any sleep! I’ve been trying to fix it but _nothing’s working!_ ”

“ _Patton_.” 

“He had bad dreams because of me and I need to apologize to Roman and Remy for it! This isn’t their fault and they’re going to think that it is and that’s not fair to them. And I… I yelled at Virgil. For… for what?! He didn’t do anything wrong! I… I…” 

Deceit grabbed Patton by the shoulder and yanked him up. Grasping his forearm firmly, he started to drag Patton back out of his room. “Staying in here is _definitely_ helping. You’re making _so_ much progress.” 

“Deceit!” Patton growled, trying to tug his arm free. “Let go! I’ll say sorry tomorrow!” 

“No. No, I don’t think that you will.” Deceit opened the door and shoved Patton into the hallway. “Go on. Virgil first.” He stood in front of Patton’s room, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The fight drained out of Patton as the past few minutes finally filtered in through the haze he’d been in for the last ten hours. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, _oh_.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Patton asked, in a very small voice. 

“If he tries to argue that he’s fine, just pull the Mom card.” 

“ _Nope, I’m your mom now,_ ” Patton declared, hands on his fists. 

“Or Dad card. Whatever.” 

Nodding, Patton turned and headed away. Just before knocking on Virgil’s door, he glanced back, and found Deceit had disappeared. It’d be so easy to just go back to his room… To try harder to fix whatever it was that had happened to Memory Lane… To forget about how badly he’d hurt his best friend… To deal with it tomorrow…

Patton knocked.


	4. prompt #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan opens his closet only to find that none of his ties are blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: a bit of panic, hurt feelings.  
> some out of character moments bc it's an alternate universe and also i can't write logan ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Logan’s alarm went off at approximately 6:45am and despite the absolute mundanity of it, something felt wrong. He’d opened his eyes to blurry vision, which was not surprising; the expanse of sky that made up his ceiling was shifting slowly into a sunrise. When he reached over to his bedside table to retrieve his glasses, they were exactly where he’d left them. He was still wrapped snugly in the quilt Patton had made for him two years ago. The smell of coffee and bacon had permeated throughout the house. While it was all perfectly normal, something still felt inaccurate. 

Sitting up, Logan put his glasses on, and looked around. His room was just as much of a mess as usual (an _organized_ mess, thank you very much). The towering bookshelves were still stuffed full, his numerous desks were still covered in various notes and charts, the doors to the Memory Archives were still securely locked. He got out of bed and slid his feet into the slippers left beside his bed. Tucking the sheets back in and making sure not a pillow was out of place, Logan went next to the bathroom. It was here that the _something_ became slightly more clear. The towels were no longer blue, but instead a deep hunter green. 

“Patton must be doing laundry,” Logan deduced aloud, though he couldn’t recall the last time they had any sort of fabrics in this color. He went about his morning routine: took a shower, washed his face, brushed his hair and teeth, flossed. He dressed in a more worn pair of slacks, knowing they weren’t filming a video today, and thinking that he was allowed to be more comfortable. He forwent picking a shirt that bore his logo and chose a simple black button down instead. It was all perfectly normal, right up until he opened the drawer that housed his ties. Not a single one of them was blue. He blinked. He rubbed at both of his eyes. He closed the drawer and reopened it. The ties remained stubbornly _not blue._ Instead, they were the same dark green as the towels in the bathroom.

Logan was by no means dreaming; he’d certainly have woken up by now. Closing the drawer once more, he headed out of his room. He could hear Patton singing in the kitchen but it would be a waste of time and effort if he started with Patton when Virgil and Roman’s rooms were on the way downstairs. He knocked first on Roman’s door, noting that the decorations were different from last he saw. The stars were still there but his name was written in purple instead of red. Logan wondered if Virgil had done it in the middle of the night, as a joke. The sound of Roman doing vocal exercises reached him before Roman actually did. The door swung open a moment later. The prince was still in his pajamas and his hair was only half styled and— 

“What are you wearing purple for?” Logan asked before he could help himself.

Roman tilted his head. “Good morning to you, too, Specs.” He brushed a hand over his silk pajamas, which were _not_ red and gold, like usual. “And why? What’s wrong with it?” His expression looked a little hurt and his tone had gone just a bit quiet. 

“Nothing,” Logan was quick to answer, knowing an upset Roman this early in the morning would only lead to disaster for the remainder of the day. “It’s just… different.” 

“I always wear purple, Logan,” Roman said, looking at Logan now like he’d grown a second head. “It’s my color. You know,” and here, he paused to strike a pose, “the color of royalty?” 

“Ah, yes.” Logan deadpanned, knowing now he wouldn’t find solutions here. “of course. How could I forget.” After a few more sentences of back and forth, Logan left Roman to finish getting ready. He’d planned next to see Virgil but upon remembering that it was still only 8 o’clock, decided to head down to ask Patton next. Virgil wouldn’t be awake for another four hours, at least, if they were lucky. 

“Good morning, Lo!” Patton chirped the moment Logan stepped foot into the kitchen. It was a disaster zone: the sink full of dishes that needed washing, flour dusted every countertop, and every burner on the stove was in use. Patton was spinning around the space with ease, however, and… He was not wearing his favorite, light blue apron. 

This time, Logan took time to figure out how to word his question. Patton was more sensitive even than Roman _and_ better at hiding it. He offered to begin cleaning the dishes and Patton thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before returning to his tasks. Roman wearing purple because it was the color of royalty wasn’t far from believable, but it was the fact that he’d said he _always_ wore it. That was a downright lie. Roman wore whites, reds, and golds. It wouldn’t be surprising if Patton had a number of aprons to choose from but he almost exclusively wore the light blue one while making breakfast. Today’s apron was cotton candy pink. Beneath it, his nightshirt was lighter in shade, with little prints of piglets. His pants were magenta. He wore flamingo slippers. 

“Is that apron new?” Logan asked finally, turning off the water, and drying the dishes he’d so far cleaned. 

“What, this old thing?” Patton giggled, twirling from the oven to the refrigerator. “Gosh, no! It’s my favorite one! You’ve seen me wear it lots of times before!” 

_No,_ Logan thought, _no, I really have not._

“Oh, right,” Logan said instead. “It suits you very well.” Patton squealed at the compliment. The pink _did_ suit Patton well but there was no denying just how wrong it felt. Patton’s color was light blue where Logan’s was indigo. Roman’s was red and Virgil’s was purple. The fans were spot on with their Rainbow Theory and Logan delighted in reading their speculations; Patton and Roman thought it fun, so why were they throwing it all off? 

An hour later found Roman sitting with Patton and Logan at the dining table. Patton was checking the clock on the wall. “Do you think Virgil will be down soon?” He asked, looking between the two. Logan was distracted by Roman’s thoroughly _purple_ outfit. What would Virgil say when he did finally wake up and see Roman’s attire? Patton had changed into one set of pajamas to another. He was still very pink. 

After waiting thirty minutes more, Roman began to eat. Patton went to go check on Virgil. 

“What’re you staring at so much for today, Logan?” Roman asked after swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “You’ve never had a problem with my fashion sense before.”

“I doubt that.” Logan raised an eyebrow and gestured to all of Roman. “Your taste has always been far too extravagant for my liking. We’ve spoke before on your lack of practicality.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with wearing heels!” 

“I never said that.” Logan agreed, amused despite himself. “I only meant that your wearing heels when it least makes sense is something I simply do not understand.” 

“Gotta agree with Lo there,” came a voice from behind them. 

Roman’s head snapped towards the sound and he scowled at the speaker. “Well of _course_ you would!” He returned to his meal, looking quite offended. 

Virgil sat down next to Logan and gave him a sleepy smile. His hair wasn’t brushed and the bags under his eyes were very messily covered up with eyeshadow. Patton clearly hadn’t given him enough time to get ready. He was wearing orange. It wasn’t bad, by any means, but it confused Logan so terribly, that his mouth fell open. 

“ _Seriously_ , Logan, what’s your problem with how we’re dressing today!” Roman snapped, dropping his silverware, and standing up. He stormed out of the room and Patton called after him, looking between the pair at the table and the prince stomping upstairs. He followed Roman.

Virgil was blushing under Logan’s stare. “What?” He asked defensively. His sweater was two sizes too large and he hid the lower half of his face behind one of the sleeves. It was also burnt orange, a deep enough shade that it wasn’t garish or harsh on the eyes. His pants were lighter, closer to peach, with pumpkins and bats printed across them. 

“You… You’re wearing orange.” 

“Yeah, and?” Virgil’s tone grew sharp and he was rising from his chair. 

“No, wait,” Logan rushed to amend, getting up as well. Virgil stepped away, looking like he was accepting _flight_ as the proper response to this situation. “I do not mean any harm. It’s just peculiar.” 

“Oh, yeah, _that_ helps.” Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, shifting on the spot, closer towards the stairs. 

“I apologize. That did not come out right.” 

“Thought you didn’t mind it,” Virgil mumbled, “thought you said it matches sometimes.” 

“Did I?” 

Virgil blinked, hard. “Are you suffering from foot-in-mouth disease?”

“Pardon?”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. His gaze went to Logan’s throat. “You aren’t wearing a tie.” 

Logan’s hand went to his neck. “I hardly see what that has to do with this.” 

“You _always_ wear a tie.”

“We aren’t filming today. I thought it unnecessary.”

“What?” Virgil asked. “We are, too. We talked about it last night.”

This was all getting very out of hand. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, nudging his glasses out of the way as he did so. He sighed. He heard Virgil take a few steps closer to the staircase. 

“You’re freaking me out, Logan.” 

“My ties are all green,” Logan blurted before Virgil could move any further. “They are supposed to be blue. My color is blue.” He gestured to Virgil. “Yours is purple.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind his bangs. “My color’s orange.”

“ _No,_ ” Logan said, frustration coloring his tone. “Thomas dyed his hair purple and we changed outfits and you decided you liked purple. It’s the color you chose!” 

Virgil was shaking his head before Logan had even finished. “ _Roman_ is purple. He always has been, even before you guys accepted me. It’s the color of—”

“Royalty,” Logan interrupted, “yes, I know, he told me.” 

“Alright, Logan, for real, what’s going on?” Virgil looked less upset with Logan now and more concerned about why Logan was acting the way he was. 

“I don’t _know!_ I’ve felt strange since I woke up this morning but I couldn’t understand why. It can’t be something as simple as _this_ , they’re just _colors_.” Logan ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. Virgil moved out of his way. “I know I’m not imagining it, either. Patton’s always light blue and Roman is red. It’s how things have always been. Before the videos, we had colors we preferred and Thomas worked around it. The Rainbow Theory…” Logan paused, turning to face Virgil. “That’s still accurate, is it not?” 

Before Virgil could answer, there was a tugging sensation in the pits of their stomach. “Speak of the devil,” Virgil said before disappearing. Logan sank out and back in with him. Instead of his spot beside the staircase, he was stood in front of the window Patton liked to be near. 

“What is _happening?!_ ” He groaned. 

“Hey, guys…” Thomas looked between the two. Logan wondered why in the world Virgil was stood next to him, in Roman’s spot. “I was feeling a little… nervous. Thought I would check in.”

“Ask Logan,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “He’s getting all worked up about our colors.” 

“Why are you standing there?” Logan asked Virgil instead of addressing their host. 

“Where does purple Virgil stand?” Virgil snarked. Logan pointed to the staircase. “Oh, no _way_. I’d never steal the stairs from Patton.” 

“I’m confused.” Thomas cut in. “What’s going on?” 

“The others are wearing the wrong colors. I had begin to think it a prank though it seems a bit much to get you in on it, Thomas.” 

Virgil and Thomas shared a look. “It’s not a prank, buddy,” Thomas said. “We’re just as lost as you are.” Thomas did seem genuinely puzzled. Logan was wondering if he’d ever find an resolution to this conundrum. 

“I need to check the Memory Archives,” Logan said before he sank out. He returned directly to his room and retrieved the key to the doors. Unlocking them and slipping in, making sure to close and lock them again behind him, Logan paused to stare up at the ceiling. It was made of forty three screens, each linked to six consoles each. Logan headed without hesitation towards Console #254. Entering the password, he used the touch screen to flip through memories from the last two years. They flickered to life on the screen it was connected to. Logan watched as Thomas’ recollection of filming the videos and interacting with the Sides played in fast forward.

Sure enough, every appearance of Roman had him dressed in purple, Patton in pink, and Virgil in orange. To Logan’s surprise, every time he showed up, his tie was green. He hardly wore much color in the first place but this seemed to be enough proof. There was no doubting his _own_ memory, however. Virgil preferred purple, given that it fit his edgy and dark exterior. Roman appreciated that red suited his bold personality. Shutting the console off and leaving through the doors, Logan paused for a moment in his room.

Perhaps if he went to sleep, it would all be back to normal when he woke up? This… alternate universe seemed worth exploring but he’d already upset two of the others. He wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of staying in what could end up a hostile environment. There was a knock on his door. 

“Lo?” Patton called. “Can I talk to you?” 

“Of course,” Logan answered. “It’s unlocked.” 

Patton let himself in and gestured to Logan’s bed. They sat side by side. “Roman’s pretty upset… Virgil didn’t seem too happy, either… Wanna tell me what happened?”

“None of you are wearing the colors that you normally do. I’m beginning to suspect I’ve woken up in an alternate universe of some sort.”

When faced with something he didn’t particularly know how to respond to, Patton laughed nervously. Logan thought it precious, not that he would ever say so. “That’s… interesting,” Patton said slowly, once he’d stopped giggling. 

“I’ll apologize to Virgil and Roman. There’s nothing wrong with how they’re dressed. In fact, they wear the colors quite well. It is just… strange.” 

“Oh, I’m sure!” Patton agreed, “that would be pretty weird to me, too!” 

“I thought I might lay down for a bit. When are we filming?” 

“In about two hours,” Patton answered, standing up and allowing Logan his space. “Do you want me to come check on you when it’s almost time?” 

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” 

“Okay, Lo.” Patton pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. He skipped towards the door. “Sleep well! Sweet dreams!” He closed the door quietly behind him. 

Puling the sheets back and tucking himself in, Logan removed his glasses, and stared up at the ceiling. It adjusted to his wants and needs so the room darkened as sleep overcame him. The last thing Logan thought of before he dozed off was how he hoped his famILY wouldn’t still be agitated with him when he woke up.


	5. prompt #5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys play Monopoly. (Optional: Deceit is playing with them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: sympathetic deceit. if that counts??
> 
> this is more Rambling Head Canons than it is an Actual Story and  
> it kinda came out of nowhere at one in the morning, ~~when i should be sleeping~~

Logan’s the banker because of _course_ he is. He always gets to be the banker. One time, Roman wanted to try, and then won the dice roll for it, and then got in trouble for constantly switching his smaller bills out for larger ones, and accidentally giving himself more money in the process. Patton, using his impossible to resist puppy eyes and pout specialty, got to play as the banker once, and he’d only been allowed it for twenty minutes when it came clear that he was giving everybody extra because they “deserved it!” By then, Virgil only thought it fair that he get a shot at being banker, and while it had gone smoothly, by the end of the game, it became clear that the responsibility had actually just stressed him out the entire time, but he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to bring down the mood. Deceit, on the few occasions that he does join them, _loves_ playing banker. He’ll fight with Logan on the role and Patton will insist on letting him have it, because Deceit plays so rarely, “let him have his fun!” Of course, by the end, it turns out Deceit has been smuggling money into his own hand the entire time, and for the life of them, nobody can figure out how he manages it _every_ time. 

When it comes to tokens, Patton always uses the cat. Roman picks the race car. Virgil chooses the Scottie dog (totally not to match Patton, what). Logan has no preference, switching between any of the remaining available tokens. Deceit selects the top hat, without fail. 

They play by house rules. Whoever lands on Free Parking gets the money gathered from various taxes and community chest cards. If one lands on directly on Go, they collect $400 instead of $200. It took some convincing Logan to agree to both of these, seeing as he always played the banker, and wasn’t keen on giving away money so easily. More often than not, if Patton ends up in jail, Roman or Virgil will pay to get him out. Logan insists that isn’t how they’re supposed to play but he never denies them. Patton spends every minute in jail whimpering and sniffling, muttering about how sad he is that he can’t be traversing the board with his friends. Somehow, Deceit gets out of jail on his very next turn, rolling doubles with ease, and those doubles always end up being snake eyes. It’s a little weird but the others have stopped questioning it. 

Patton really enjoys buying the Utility spots where Roman does whatever he can to buy all the Railroads. Some games are focused entirely on collecting every street that corresponds to their color. Since there is no purple, Virgil usually goes for the orange or green sets (he openly admits to this particular choice because they’re the colors of Halloween). The brown and pink spaces are open to all, though Roman insists he be allowed the chance first to buy them, after he’s finished buying the red ones. He and Virgil argue almost consistently about it. 

They try to get through the game in no more than an hour, but sometimes it’ll last so long, that they have to turn in for the night, and pick it up again next week. Game night isn’t always Monopoly but when it is, they really settle in for it. Roman likes to Snapchat the entire time; whether it’s every betrayal anytime he has to pay when he lands on a purchased property or if someone’s making a deal on trading properties without inviting him. Patton takes pictures with a polaroid all night, to add later on to his scrapbook. Logan has an entire notebook dedicated to their Monopoly games; he keeps very good track of everyone’s purchases. 

The longest Monopoly game so far lasted them through a month of four separate game nights. They play once a week and in this particular case, they were determined to finish as quickly as possible. Somehow, it still ended up lasting four sessions, and tensions rose every time they sat down to play. Roman went bankrupt first, followed by Deceit. Patton and Virgil were tied in second and Logan had barely taken the lead. Eventually, Virgil sold all of his properties to Patton to try and help him win. After another hour of back and forth, Patton took it when Logan landed on Pennsylvania Avenue, which Virgil had invested most of his hotels in, and since Patton owned it now, he reaped the benefits. It left Logan with hardly enough money to make it around the board one last time without landing on more properties owned by Patton. Roman had spun Patton around in circles, singing his praises. Deceit allowed him the victory without a single sarcastic comment. Logan didn’t seem upset and congratulated Patton on a game well won. Patton had dragged Virgil into the celebrations, insisting he couldn’t have done it without his best friend. And then he’d asked: “how about we play Life next week?!”


	6. prompt #6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Roman… what happened?”
> 
> “The Dragon-Witch _**cursed**_ me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [week two!](http://sanderssidespromptsummer.tumblr.com/post/174958892300) these ones are all dialogue based and i love writing dialogue!!!
> 
> warnings: just lots of crying and dramatics.

Roman was… tiny.

When Thomas was feeling any particular sort of way, it might have effected his sides just a bit: Virgil got the deep scary voice, Patton would literally glow, Logan appeared taller, Roman became stronger. It wasn’t a whole lot and it was usually unnoticeable because it happened so briefly. So when Roman came sliding down the banister (much to Logan’s chagrin), yelling about something or other, he earned the attention of the others quite quickly. He managed a three point landing and for a moment, his thrilled smile showed how proud he was of the feat, before his face contorted back into misery and tears were shining again at the corners of his eyes. 

“Roman…” Logan began, scrutinizing the fanciful trait before them. Patton had a coloring book open on the floor, trying his best to color in the lines. Virgil was curled up on the couch, very much so not wanting to be there, but having lost rock-paper-scissors against Patton, hadn’t been allowed to hide in his room today. Logan had a puzzle spread across the coffee table and was halfway done with it. His focus now, however, was placed solely on the prince at the foot of the stairs. “What happened?”

Roman, with all the dramatics one might expect of a performer, _wailed_. He was crying in a matter of seconds and Patton was up and off the floor in just as little time. He scooped Roman into his arms and… “Are you shorter than me?” Patton asked, pulling back just a bit, while still holding onto him. “You’ve always been taller than me, haven’t you?” 

That did _not_ help Roman’s mood. Somehow, his crying got even higher pitched. Virgil clamped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!!” He snapped, curling into himself, as if that would help get him away from the noise. Logan sent him a sympathetic glance. 

“I _can’t_ shut up, Virgil!” Roman screamed. “I’m tiny!! Don’t you see how small I am!!!!” Patton leaned back a bit more, in case Roman got any louder, but still determined to keep hugging him. Hugs made everything better, after all.

Logan left his puzzle and joined Patton and Roman’s little huddle. He kept enough space between them so that Patton couldn’t pull him into the hug itself. Normally, Roman stood approximately six inches taller than Patton. While they generally matched the appearance of their host, their ability to shape shift allowed them slight liberties, if they liked, so long as they didn’t stray too far. Roman liked to be tall where Patton preferred being shorter and rounder (he claimed it made for better cuddling) and so this… scene was slightly unsettling. Roman was normally 6’0” and Patton usually came in around 5’6”. Now, it seemed more like Roman was 5’0” even. Really, he wasn’t exactly _tiny_ but compared to before? 

“Stop _staring!!_ ” Roman yelling pulled Logan from his thoughts. He buried further into Patton’s hold, crying into his shoulder. 

“Apologies.” Logan said, sincerely. “This is most peculiar. Will you tell us what happened?” 

Patton pet Roman’s hair while he sniffled and tried to pull himself together. Virgil was still sat in his corner of the couch, glaring from a distance. He’d lowered his hands but he looked ready to cover his ears again if necessary. Sure enough…

“The Dragon-Witch _**cursed**_ me!!!” 

Patton startled away from Roman’s shout. Tears were streaming fast down Roman’s cheeks and Logan wondered if something more than just changing Roman’s height had happened. Taking Roman’s hand, Patton led him over to the sofa. Sitting him down and pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, he started to bundle Roman up in it. “Virgil, do you mind grabbing us some water and tissues?” He asked of the trait that had yet still to move from his spot. Eager, however, to get as far away from the situation as possible, Virgil nodded and bolted out of the room. Logan, meanwhile, had followed the pair, and was still watching Roman quite closely.

“The Dragon-Witch is a figment of _your_ imagination,” Logan stated. “As she is your creation, shouldn’t you be able to cancel any sort of magic she casts on you?” Each word sounded more and more ridiculous, but Logan was rather keen on the idea of getting Roman back to normal as soon as possible, before his temper got any worse.

Patton, finished with his task of making sure Roman was comfortable, sat down next to him. “Is this the only thing she did, kiddo? Are you feeling okay, otherwise?” Patton seemed to have decided on taking the more serious route and Logan was silently thankful that this conversation would be free of any Dad Jokes. 

Roman wiped at his cheeks with the sleeves of his shirt which… now that Logan noticed, was quite a few sizes too big on him. In fact… “Are you getting _smaller?_ ” Patton looked to Logan with wide, surprised eyes, before his gaze turned back to Roman. Sure enough, he seemed to have shrunk a couple more inches. 

“It’s the curse!” Roman cried, flailing his arms. One of the sleeves hit Patton in the face. “She said the more upset I am, the tinier I’ll get! Until I just disappear completely!!!” 

Virgil returned just then, arms full of chilled bottles of water and boxes of tissue. He dropped them all on the table (ruining Logan’s organized mini piles of puzzle pieces) and dashed up the stairs. Patton frowned after him but his attention was quickly given back to Roman as the prince tugged on his cardigan. “What is it, sweetie?” Patton asked, combing a hand through his hair. 

Roman pointed to Kleenex. Logan grabbed a box and a bottle of water and handed them to Roman. Roman went about drying his eyes while Patton talked him through a few breathing exercises. “That curse hardly seems fair,” Logan pointed out. “Surely, she would know that something like this would only have a negative impact on you. It’s as if she’s setting you up for failure.” This did not help either, apparently, as Roman’s shoulders started shaking again. 

“She— she hates me! Of course she would! It’s not my fault I’m so… so awesome! And powerful! Right, Patton?” Roman’s eyes were big and wet and red and Patton was dangerously close to bursting into tears himself. 

“Absolutely!” Patton agreed. “I might be the softest, but you’re the strongest! And that’s why I know you’ll break this curse and teach her a lesson the next time you come face to face!”

“No!!!” Roman, who had been in the middle of a drink of water, spat it out all over the table. Logan internally bemoaned the loss of his hard work on the puzzle, which had seen enough damage at this point to deem it a lost cause. He swept his hand and it disappeared back into the box. “I can’t ever challenge her again!! She knows my weakness now!!!” 

“Roman,” Patton said, slightly scolding. “You can’t run away from this.”

“I can certainly try!” Roman pouted, the very picture of defiance. It was… undeniably adorable. 

“Perhaps we should all go pay her a visit. Might she be persuaded to lift the curse if we were to offer something in return?” Logan suggested. The idea of going to Roman’s realm while Roman was like this was not appealing but it was best to have options. 

“Problem solved,” Virgil announced his presence as he hopped off the last step of the staircase. 

“Pardon?” 

Roman’s gasp came before Virgil could answer. Patton’s following “oh!” sufficiently stole Logan’s attention away from Virgil. He looked over to find Roman returned to his proud 6’0”. Logan sent a narrowed stare towards the anxious side. Knowing Virgil, he would rather not talk about what he had done to accomplish this, but Logan was not going to let it slide. He left Roman and Patton and approached Virgil. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited patiently for an explanation. 

“It was nothing,” Virgil muttered, staring down at his feet. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit they’d all picked up from Thomas. “I just snuck into Roman’s room and went into the Fantasy Realm and called for the Dragon-Witch. She teleported me to her lair — which wasn’t bad, by the way, I’m assuming she got her interior decorating skills from Roman, actually, the teleporting itself was more weird than anything, anyway —” Virgil took a breath. “I made a deal with her to end the curse. So… it’s fine.” 

Logan knew he had to get an answer out of Virgil soon, before the other two got involved. “What sort of deal was this, exactly?” At this rate, Virgil would end up in a condition just as bad, if not worse, than Roman’s. Then again, Logan wasn’t entirely sure how all this magic nonsense really worked.

“’S not important.” Virgil mumbled, so quietly Logan almost didn't hear him. 

“Virgil, please, be honest with me. I’d rather you not deal with this on your own.”

“Deal with what?” Patton asked, appearing suddenly by Logan’s side. 

“Nothing!” Virgil exclaimed, giving Logan a pleading glance. _Later,_ it said. 

“The Dragon-Witch,” Logan offered, facing Patton. “We should all work on finding a way to make sure she doesn’t do this again.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil relax. 

“Indeed!” Roman declared and the three turned to find him stood on top of the table. Logan was immensely relieved to have cleared it already of his puzzle. Roman was brandishing his sword, swinging it through the air. “She shall not best me the next time!” He seemed quite alright, despite having been immeasurably upset a moment ago. “My Dark and Stormy Knight!” He called, vanishing the sword back to his room, and jumping off the table. He bounded into their space, nudging Logan and Patton out of the way. 

Virgil looked about ready to flee but Roman grabbed his hands in his own before he could. “I know not what you did to save me from such a terrible fate, but I am in debt to you!” His eyes were shining and there was no doubting the pride in his tone. 

Virgil blushed at the praise. He scoffed and diverted his gaze. “It was no big deal. You’d have done it for any of us.” Despite their differences, Roman and Virgil had an unspoken agreement that it was their job to keep Thomas and the others safe. 

“That’s true!” Roman beamed. He dropped Virgil’s hands and swooped into Patton’s space. He dropped a kiss onto both of his cheeks. “Thank you for comforting me, sunshine!” Next, he crowded towards Logan and ruffled a hand through his hair. “And thank you for being the voice of reason, Specs!” Patton giggled and Logan huffed, fixing his tousled locks. 

“This calls for cookies,” Patton decided. He gently took Virgil’s wrist in his grasp and tugged him towards the kitchen. “Help me out, oh mighty hero?” 

Again, Virgil reddened at the compliment. He latched onto Logan before they could be distanced too far and pulled him along as well. Logan, not wanting Roman to feel left out after his latest ordeal, gestured for him to follow. He did so happily, chattering on about how good the house was going to smell. 

In Roman's room, the doors to the Fantasy Realm were cracked open, and a distant cackle floated in through the space…


	7. prompt #7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has anyone seen my hoodie?”
> 
> “Last I saw it was…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: an injury/burn, panic, arguing 
> 
> make sure you read the last chapter to understand what's going on ;)

It was Laundry Day. 

Virgil _hated_ Laundry Day. 

It was no secret that he had his comfort clothes and it was an even bigger not-secret that his number one piece of comfort clothing was his hoodie. He was proud of the patches he’d stitched on, of the mixed purple and black fabrics, of the zippers he could fidget with on the sleeves. It was bigger than it needed to be so he could have sweater paws if necessary. He’d hid in the hood on more than one occasion, drawing the strings tight as if he could retreat even further from the various situations that went on around him. It was important. Everyone knew this. 

Patton still insisted that it was like any other piece of clothing, however, and it needed to be washed. Virgil had argued that he could just snap his fingers and make it fresh and clean without even having to take it off! Patton had pouted. Virgil had caved. Sure, Virgil had other hoodies and sweaters and pullovers that he could put on in the mean time. His Christmas sweater, for example, wasn’t a terrible alternative. The sleeves were long enough to bundle his hands up in them. There was no hood, though. There was nothing that could perfectly replace his hoodie (which was fine, he didn’t _want_ anything to replace his hoodie). 

“Just an hour, kiddo!” Patton promised as he stepped out of Virgil’s room, carrying a basket full of clothes and blankets. “I’ll make sure your hoodie gets put in the first load!” Laundry Day happened once a week and Patton did it _all_ : clothes, bedding, towels, rugs. Socks got their own small load because, Patton claimed, they stuck together better that way. All the whites were kept separate, of course. Patton just loved doing laundry. They’d come to understand that it was a good stress chore for Patton, something that he could put all his focus on, instead of what ever might be worrying him. 

“Patton!” Roman’s voice came from down the hall, slipping into Virgil’s room through his cracked door. Patton hadn’t closed it all the way and Virgil, not intentionally, could hear the conversation as it begun. “Will you put my pajamas in first?!” 

“Sorry, Ro,” Virgil heard Patton apologize. “Virgil’s hoodie is going in the first load and we know black doesn’t go well with white!” Virgil felt guilt churn in his stomach. 

“But Patton!” Roman whined, and his voice was getting farther away, as the two headed downstairs. “I had the most marvelous idea and it’s important that…” 

Virgil sighed and got out of bed. He pushed his door open more and stepped out into the hall. Glancing towards Logan’s room, he wasn’t surprised to find it shut. Logan used Laundry Day as his own day to give his room a bit of Spring Cleaning, no matter the season. It was a mess (“organized” Logan never failed to correct) and consistently needed tidying lest anything get misplaced. Virgil ducked into the shared bathroom (they each had one in their own rooms, but this was sometimes more convenient). He closed and locked the door. In the mirror, Virgil’s reflection looked better than he felt, which was hardly fair. He hadn’t removed his makeup from the night before and his eyeshadow was smeared so badly, he was surprised Patton hadn’t said something. Grabbing the package of wipes, Virgil went about cleaning his face. The shirt he’d thrown on so Patton could wash the rest had seen its days, but he didn’t really plan on leaving his room much, anyway. “Just an hour,” Virgil muttered to himself, around his toothbrush. He washed his mouth out and sighed. 

A flash of green temporarily blinded him and Virgil yelped, covering his eyes. 

“A lovely morning, isn’t it, Virgil?” A voice purred into his ear.

Virgil startled, backing away from whoever it was. Roman’s cans of hairspray clattered to the floor noisily. Virgil collapsed on top of the closed toilet lid. Blinking the light from his eyes, Virgil’s gaze swung around the small room, looking for the speaker. He was… alone. “Who’s there?” He asked angrily, not happy about being spooked or about anyone seeing him without his hoodie on. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to cover as much of himself up as he could.

“Have you forgotten our deal already?” And, again, it whispered right behind him. 

“Stop that!” He shouted, bolting up and away, slamming his back against the wall. His mind caught up seconds later. Deal… _Shit._ “Is now the best time?” He snapped. 

The space in front of him shimmered. The Dragon-Witch didn’t suddenly become visible, but the air sparkled strangely around her form. Virgil wondered if she was allowed in this part of the Mindscape, or if she was confined to the Fantasy Realm, and that’s why she wasn’t fully corporeal. “You’re alone here and I can’t get into that dreadful room of yours.” 

“Sound more like Roman, why don’t you,” Virgil sneered, knowing it would anger her.

Sure enough, a wave of heat washed over him. “I am _nothing_ like that arrogant fool!”

There was a knock on the door. “Virgil? I heard a shout. Are you alright?” Logan would have been the closest to the commotion so it was no surprise he’d come to check on it. 

“Just fine, Lo!” Virgil lied and, oh great, now he’d have _two_ reptiles breathing down his neck. “Accidentally had the water on too hot. Burned myself a little.”

Silence followed before Virgil heard Logan sigh. “Very well. Be more careful.” 

“Speaking of being burnt…” The Dragon-Witch hummed and Virgil’s gaze snapped towards where her voice was coming from. Before he could find it, however, there was a heavy weight pressing itself against his neck. He clamped his mouth shut before he could yell, grinding his teeth together. “This might hurt a bit.” And God, she sounded so _happy_ about it. 

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and his vision blurred. It felt as if _all_ of him were on fire and not just where the Dragon-Witch was digging her claws into. As quickly as it’d begun, it came to an end. He fell to his knees, gasping. A hand went to his neck, as if that would help somehow, Virgil, you idiot, and came back sticky with blood. “What the _fuck,_ ” he managed, coughing. Heaving himself up, he staggered to the sink and turned the water on cold. Wetting a washcloth, he held it against the injury and stutteringly counted 4-7-8 in his head.

“A reminder,” she cooed from beside him but this time, he was too exhausted to react. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” And just like that, the temperature in the room cooled, and he was alone.

“Shit,” Virgil swore. Pulling the cloth away and wiping at his eyes with his other hand, Virgil checked to see what had been done to him in his reflection. Now that he’d managed to wipe it clean and the pain had resided enough to focus, Virgil was at least slightly relieved that it wasn’t _too_ obvious. Three puncture wounds, shallow, and the surrounding skin was red; it was a first degree burn, if that. “ _Shit,_ ” Virgil repeated. Running the cloth under the water again, Virgil kept it pressed against his neck. 

Unlocking the door, Virgil nudged it open, and peeked out into the hall. Empty. He moved as quickly as his heavy legs would let him. Once safe in his room, Virgil exhaled shakily. Flicking on all the lights and banishing every shadow from every corner, he continued his 4-7-8 breathing. He threw his closet open and dug through the pile of clothes on the floor of it. “I know I have one,” he said aloud, “it’s going to look so stupid but it’s better than nothing, just until you can get your hoodie back, God, I can’t fucking believe this, it’s not even noon yet!” His rambling continued much the same, voice wobbling by the time he found what he was looking for. 

Retrieving the first aid kit from his desk, Virgil used the handheld mirror he kept for when he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed to apply his makeup, to patch up the wound. He applied burn cream and… What the hell was he supposed to use against Dragon-Witch magic? There was no way these were going to be just regular injuries. Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if whatever this was began to spread along the rest of his skin. “Whatever,” he huffed, before slapping a thin layer of gauze over it. Next, he wound the scarf he’d been searching for around his neck, layering it just right to cover up his bandages. 

“You look ridiculous,” he told his reflection. “You can’t just go around wearing a t-shirt and a scarf. You need…” Virgil looked around his room. “I don’t want anything else!” He moaned, tossing the mirror aside. Maybe Patton hadn’t started the laundry yet…

Leaving his room and flying down the stairs without a care for his safety, Virgil dashed by the living room before Roman could see him. The prince seemed to have set up a sing along Disney movie marathon. Patton was in the laundry room, sorting through four baskets of clothes. The washer was filling with water. 

“Patton!” 

“Ye-ow! Loud noises!” Patton exclaimed, clutching at his heart in surprise. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said, sincere if not rushed. “I was wondering, can I have my hoodie back? You can put it in the last load! I just…” His gaze darted over the chaos of fabric. “Need it. Now.” 

“Kiddo, we talked about this!” Patton scolded. “It won’t take long, here, I’ll put it in right…” Patton looked around. “Where’d it go?” 

“What?” Virgil asked, voice squeaking. “You didn’t _lose_ it, did you?!” 

“No! No, of course not!” Patton said frantically, digging desperately now through clothes. 

Virgil stomped out of the laundry room. He snapped his fingers and abruptly turned the television off. 

Roman looked to him, offended. “Uhm! Rude much?!”

“Where’s my hoodie, Roman?” Virgil demanded, standing on the opposite side of the couch. 

“Why would _I_ know that?” Roman defended. “Patton’s the one doing laundry!”

“I heard you earlier! You wanted your pajamas in first! So, _obviously_ , you must have hidden it!” Nerves were starting to gather painfully in his shoulders. 

“Wow, eavesdropping? What’s your deal today, Penelope?” 

“It was an— What?” 

“What, what?”

“Penelope? What kind of nickname is _that_?”

“The scarf,” Roman answered, gesturing to Virgil’s neck. 

“Weak.” 

“Am not!” 

“I dunno, letting the Dragon-Witch get the best of you is pretty—”

“Virgil!” Patton’s admonishing tone cut him off. “Apologize!” 

Roman looked genuinely hurt. The guilt returned full force but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. He stormed back upstairs and for Logan’s room. Patton consoling Roman followed him up the steps but he ignored it. He knocked on the door before throwing it open without waiting for an answer. His question died in his throat when he found Logan not alone. Remy was sitting on his bed, talking animatedly about something or another — Or he had been at least, before his exaggerated gestures came to a stop at Virgil’s arrival. 

“Virgil?” Logan watched him with raised eyebrows, in the middle of reorganizing a bookshelf.

“Has anyone seen my hoodie?” He asked, deciding he’d figure out later why Logan and Remy, of all people, were hanging out together. 

“Last I saw it was with Patton, for Laundry Day.” Logan answered. “Did you check with him?”

“He lost it. Or Roman is hiding it. I don’t know yet.” 

“Nice scarf, gurl. Where’d you find it?” Remy asked, hopping off the bed. He approached and grabbed the ends of the scarf, twirling it between his fingers. Virgil stepped away, pulling it out of his grasp. 

“It’s mine, it was in my closet. I’m just…” Logan was looking at him funny. Virgil remembered suddenly that they still hadn’t talked about the fact that Logan knew. _Shit._ “Uncomfortable without my hoodie and so I thought this might help but it isn’t so I wanted to just… get it back before Patton washed it, and he could do it later, but it’s not… there.” 

Remy was looking at him funny now, too. 

“But you guys obviously don’t have it so never mind. I’m just gonna go… look somewhere else.” Before either could call after him, Virgil left and pulled the door shut behind him. He disappeared back into his room. He locked his door. Pacing back and forth for a bit did nothing to help and, if anything, if was just aggravating his wounds. He tossed the scarf aside and crawled into bed. He had only one blanket to cover up with as Patton intended to wash the rest and only one of his pillows was still in a pillowcase. He wasn’t comfortable, not even a little bit, but that was apparently just how this day was going to go. 

“Deal with it tomorrow,” he mumbled, curling up as much as he could. He plugged his headphones in and turned his music up. “It’ll be better tomorrow…”


	8. prompt #8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Patton, where did you get that puppy?”  
> “I… uh… found it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: panic, mentions of an injury/burn
> 
> make sure to read chapters 6 and 7 for context :)

Hiding things from Logan was _really_ hard to do. Patton had been successful so far but that was only because he’d managed to keep Logan busy with various tasks throughout the house. Whether the computer had crashed and Patton couldn’t figure out how to fix it or he was having trouble getting the BluRay player to work, Patton had kept Logan far away from the hallway that housed the doors to each of their rooms. Roman was only still unaware because he was locked in his own room, playing Broadway tunes loud enough to be heard through the walls. Virgil hadn’t noticed because… Actually, when was the last time he’d hung out with them all? Laundry Day had left him pretty upset and even after finding his hoodie, he hadn’t left his room much. Patton made a note to check on him.

In the mean time, he had a secret to keep from Logan, and that meant keeping him downstairs at all costs. Whether Logan was suspicious or not, Patton couldn’t tell, but he was really good at reading emotions, and how others were feeling, so he was _pretty_ sure he was in the clear. Currently, he had Logan in the kitchen with him, making muffins that would have Crofter’s jelly in the middle of them. Despite not caring much for sweets in general, Logan did enjoy the actual practice of baking. It had to do with all the precise measurements. He said it was like a science, or something. Patton considered it more an art than anything else. 

“I must say, Patton, you’ve needed my assistance an awful lot today,” Logan said thoughtfully. He emptied a measuring cup of flour into the dry ingredients bowl before immediately wiping it clean with a paper towel. “Is everything alright?” 

“What, I can’t hang with my favorite teacher just for fun?” Patton asked, playing a little hurt. He cracked an egg into the mixer and tossed the shell into the compost bin. 

“Generally, no. It’s rare students would want to spend time with their educator for _fun_. I suppose if there were the possibility of extra credit on the line, one might do so intentionally, but it’s still unlikely it would be entertaining.” 

“Logan!” Patton said and Logan would honestly never fail to be impressed with Patton’s ability to make anything sound even slightly reprimanding. “Every moment with you is jam-packed full of fun!” Logan groaned, knowing without even looking that Patton had grabbed the jar of Crofter’s to make his joke. 

“Very well,” Logan conceded, deciding not to push the matter any further. He added baking powder and salt to the mixture of flour and sugar. “Are you finished with the liquid ingredients?” 

“Almost!” Patton chirped, beating the eggs, milk, and melted butter together. “Do you have the lemon zest?” He asked, having left the task for Logan because he knew how much Logan liked the smell of the citrus fruit. Sure enough, Logan had it at the ready; they dropped the teaspoon in last. “Do you want to do the stirring or the tin prep?” 

“I’ll take care of this, if you don’t mind,” Logan offered, gesturing to the mixing bowls. Patton stepped aside and let Logan pour the liquids into the dry mixture. He retrieved the tray from its cabinet. Dropping little paper liners into each muffin cup, Patton next went about setting the oven to preheat. In no time at all, the muffin mixture was poured into the paper liners, with little wells made for the jelly to be spooned into, and then the remaining batter layered over top. This was something they'd done many times before (Logan preferred muffins over cupcakes) and working together was seamless.

They’d just put the muffins into the oven when a voice cleared its throat in the doorway to the kitchen. They both looked to find Virgil stood there, a puppy in his arms. Before Virgil could even start, Logan turned to Patton, and asked, “Patton, where did you get that puppy?” 

Virgil snickered while Patton’s eyes went wide. “I… uh… found it?”

“I didn’t even have to say anything! He knew right away that it was you!” Virgil exclaimed. 

Patton, apparently realizing his mistake, tried to backtrack. “I mean, uh! It isn’t mine!” 

“He was in your room,” Virgil accused him. “Was scratching at your door.” 

“Oh no, was he really?” Patton cried, hurrying towards his best friend and the canine he was holding. “Oh, you poor thing, I’m so sorry I left you!” He scooped the dog out of Virgil’s arms and into his own, cradling him to his chest. “I thought you had plenty of toys to play with,” Patton cooed, scratching the puppy behind the ears. “I made sure you had lots of food and water, too!”

“Patton…” Logan interrupted, clearly waiting for an explanation. 

Virgil was fidgeting now that he had nothing to hold on to. He had his sleeves pulled all the way over his hands and even then, had them tucked into his armpits. “I’ll just… go,” he said suddenly, glancing back towards the staircase. “Let you two settle this…”

“Now wait a minute, kiddo! I’ve been meaning to talk to you!” 

“Likewise, Virgil. Wait a moment longer, won’t you?”

Virgil looked like a deer caught in the headlights but he didn’t move away any further. Patton turned to Logan and squared his shoulders. “Okay, so, last week, remember when Thomas went with Jamahl and Derionna to help them adopt an animal? And there was that one puppy that Thomas was _really_ hung up on — and by Thomas, I _definitely_ mean Thomas, and _not_ me — because it was so cute and fluffy and had big ‘ole sad eyes? Of course, we couldn’t adopt it, because we don’t have the time to take care of a sweet, precious lil pupper right now, and I totally get that, Logan, _really_ , but _look!!_ ” 

Patton held the puppy out in front of Logan, allowing the latter to get a good look. Logan, of course, was not swayed. Patton coughed awkwardly. “Anyway, Thomas has been thinking about him a lot and he just kinda… wandered out of Memory Lane… and into my room.” 

“I get the impression you are not being entirely honest.” 

Patton groaned. “Fiiiiine, I lured him into my room with treats! There!” Patton huffed, clutching the puppy closer to his chest. “Happy?” 

“Not exactly,” Logan said, dryer than the Sahara Desert. “We’ve talked about adopting a pet.”

“This is the Mindscape, though! It’ll be easier here!” 

Before Logan could answer, there was a loud bang just outside the kitchen. Patton spun around and Logan leaned around to see by him. Virgil was nowhere to be found. 

“Kiddo?” Patton called, leaving the kitchen and heading into the living room. “Was that you?” 

Logan followed, suddenly feeling quite nervous. He never had gotten the chance to talk to Virgil about the deal he’d made with the Dragon-Witch. His behavior two days prior, when he could not find his hoodie, had been strange. Normally, Logan would have put it off to Virgil being uncomfortable but given what had happened just the day before _that_ … 

They found Virgil sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. He was breathing heavily, with his head between his knees. His shoulders were trembling and, if Logan concentrated, he could hear Virgil counting underneath his breath. Patton hurriedly set the puppy down on the sofa before kneeling beside Virgil. He didn’t touch him and allowed him his space. “Virgil?” Patton asked softly. 

As if struck by lightning, Virgil jolted away from the plea. “I’m fine!” He shouted, eyes wide and unfocused. The fabric of his hoodie lay askew and… Logan’s eyes zeroed in on the bandages on Virgil’s neck. “I have to—” His voice got stuck in his throat but he was clambering up the stairs before he’d finished, anyway. He stumbled up them, barely catching himself on more than one occasion. 

Patton looked desperately to Logan. Stepping around him and aiming to follow Virgil, Logan gave Patton a reassuring smile. Or, as close to reassuring as he could manage. “Make sure the muffins don’t burn. I’ll go check on him.” He hurried up after Virgil, hoping to catch him before he could lock himself away in his room. He’d reached the landing just in time to see Virgil disappear into his room, the door slamming shut behind him. Logan wasted no time in approaching and knocking. 

“Virgil, it’s Logan. May I please come in?” 

“ _No!_ ”

“I do not think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now. Allow me to at least sit with you?” 

“I don’t need your help! Go away!” 

“That sounds exactly like someone who _does_ need help would say. We have yet to talk about what you did three days ago. I shall wait outside until you’re feeling up for company.”

Logan paced back and forth in front of Virgil’s room for ten minutes. He recited the Periodic Table of Elements out loud as he did so, hoping that Virgil would hear him through the door, and that it might help to calm him down if he had something else to focus on. Another five minutes and the click of the door unlocking stopped Logan mid-step. Quite suddenly, Virgil’s hand slipped through the cracked door and latched onto Logan’s wrist. He yanked him into the room before shutting the door just as quickly. 

“That seemed unnecessary,” Logan groused, rubbing his shoulder. 

“Can’t be too careful,” Virgil muttered, eyeing the space around Logan, as if he were looking for something. He’d put the scarf back on and had pulled the hoodie on over his head. He was paler than usual and the bags under his eyes weren’t covered up with eyeshadow, so Logan could see just how worse they seem to have gotten. 

He had _so_ many questions. 

“Sit down,” Virgil said, gesturing to the bed. Every light in the room was turned on even though it was two in the afternoon. Virgil had the curtains drawn shut over his window. Logan took a seat on the edge of Virgil’s bed, leaving room for Virgil to join him. He did not, however, and instead began pacing. He was gesturing far more than normal as he launched into his story. 

“I think the worst part is that the Dragon-Witch looked so… so _boring_. Maybe it was just a front or a disguise but I remember thinking to myself _whatever she does can’t be that bad if she looks like this_ and I know that’s really stupid because judging books by their covers, or whatever, but I was still kinda out of it and panicking.” Virgil kicked at an empty water bottle on the floor. “Anyway, I demanded she lift the curse on Roman. She went into this long-winded villain monologue about how Roman deserved it and how he should have known better than to challenge her, blah blah blah, I’m not surprised she’s like that, given that Roman created her.” 

Logan allowed himself a small, amused smile. 

“She was pretty steamed when I just cut her off mid rant. At that point, I was running on adrenaline? You know how Roman and I get about… Thomas and you and Patton and… Keeping everybody safe…” Virgil glanced towards Logan, suddenly sheepish. “And I was just getting annoyed and angry that she wouldn’t ease up on him, y’know, seeing as she wouldn’t even _exist_ if it weren’t for him. So I just offered a deal of our own if she would get rid of the curse and…” Virgil visibly shuddered. “Suddenly it all just hit me. That she _is_ dangerous and even though she might just be a figment of Roman’s imagination, what she can do is _very_ real.” 

Virgil sighed, as if making some sort of internal decision, and pulled his hood down. He unwound the scarf next and tossed it on the floor. He unzipped the sweater and pulled the fabric aside, allowing Logan to clearly see his neck. The left side of it was covered in patches of gauze but the area surrounding it looked red. “She paid me a visit on Laundry Day.” 

“She was here?” Logan asked, the query jumping to the front of his mind above all else. “In this part of the Mindscape?” 

“It’s why I haven’t been leaving my room,” Virgil answered, finally joining Logan, and sitting down. “Don’t worry, I know she isn’t after you guys. She seems pretty content with our agreement.” Virgil laid back and threw his arm over his eyes.

“The bargain you _still_ have yet to tell me, by the way.” Logan reminded him, not unkindly. 

It was silent for a few minutes. Logan didn’t press Virgil and instead, spent the time organizing his thoughts. He’d have to get Roman involved, there was no doubt about that. Perhaps Patton could keep Virgil preoccupied while Logan went with Roman to sort this out. Surely, the prince had more power over the Dragon-Witch, and could solve this entire dilemma with a snap of his fingers. 

“This,” Virgil said, pointing to his neck, “doesn’t have anything to do with it. Or… at least I don’t think it does?” He moaned, rolling over onto his side. He faced away from Logan now and Logan took the initiative, running his hand slowly up and down Virgil’s back, hoping it might comfort him. Through the thick fabric of his hoodie, Logan was surprised to feel Virgil considerably warmer than on average. The two of them had always been the cooler opposites to Roman and Patton. 

“Are you feeing alright?” Logan asked, letting his hand rest near the back of Virgil’s neck. His fingers brushed against his skin and he flinched. “Virgil, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say something?” No answer. “Virgil?” Logan stood and walked around the opposite side of the bed. He kneeled down beside the mattress. Virgil’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth slightly open. His breathing had gone shallow. 

Without hesitating, Logan hurried to the door, and threw it open. “Patton! Roman! I need your assistance in Virgil’s room immediately!”


	9. prompt #9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And where was the last place you saw the object in question?”
> 
> “I already told you, Lo– er, Detective Holmes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure you read chapters 6, 7, and 8 or else you'll be really confused! 
> 
> warnings: mentions of a previous injury/burn, illness, deceit, daggers/a sword, fighting, potion use, blood.

Twenty hours later and Virgil was still bedridden.

He’d woken briefly twice, moaning about being too hot or too cold, before slipping back into a fever-induced and restless sleep. Logan couldn’t understand it. They weren’t supposed to be able to get sick, unless Thomas himself was ill, and wasn’t taking care of himself. Generally, the sides weren’t effected by such things, seeing as they weren’t technically physical. Virgil, however, was showing signs of… Well, that was the other thing. No matter how much research Logan had done in the last twelve hours (and only because Patton had forced him to get some rest), he couldn’t figure out for the life of him what Virgil had come down with. 

There was no hiding the wound on his neck from Patton and Roman once they’d come to help. Logan had explained as quickly as he could to the others what Virgil had told him before falling unconscious. As such, they had him created a new room entirely next to Patton’s. It was easy to do something like this and they did so frequently, for group activities or planning in pairs, when they didn’t want to be effected by each other’s rooms, or didn’t feel like using the Commons. It was a simple guest bedroom but it was protected by the same rules: the Dragon-Witch could not enter it. Patton moved frequently in and out of it, forgoing using the door just in case, and Roman had to remind him to not sink in and out so quickly, as he kept getting dizzy afterwards.

Remy had stepped in eventually to help Patton lay down for a nap because Patton (the hypocrite) hadn’t slept a wink since finding out what happened to Virgil. He’d helped Roman to calm down as well when the former flipped his lid over finding out about the deal Virgil had made with the Dragon-Witch. Or… as much as he _could_ find out, seeing as how Virgil hadn’t actually gotten around to telling Logan. He’d very nearly gone into the Fantasy Realm on his own to take care of this before Logan had stopped him. He had insisted on Roman not going alone, on there being strength in numbers, and really, Logan was quite sure the only reason Roman had agreed to wait, was because Patton was giving him a very stern look from behind his back. 

“I’ll come with you,” Remy offered, sipping from his Starbucks tumbler. He’d been at it far more often than usual and Logan was beginning to wonder whether he was drinking coffee or tea. Remy hadn’t slept, either, but seeing as he was the Figment for sleep, it might not have been necessary. Logan added it to his list of things to look into. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave Patton alone.” Logan glanced upstairs, where Patton was currently taking care of Virgil. “We both know how he gets when Virgil is unwell.” 

“Understatement,” Remy scoffed. “Alright, I’ll stay with pops, then.” He brandished his phone, eyebrows raising from behind his sunglasses. “Text if you need me.” 

Logan promised. 

Two hours later, with the sun midway through its journey in the sky, Roman and Logan headed into the Fantasy Realm. Roman was armed to the teeth, with his trusty sword, and a number of daggers hidden on his person. Logan carried with him a satchel, filled with potions Roman had retrieved from an apothecary in the nearest village. There was also a spell book and Roman had insisted Logan read from it while they traveled to the Dragon-Witch’s lair on horseback. 

“I don’t know a thing about magic, Roman,” Logan countered. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for this.” Still, he thumbed through the pages. Anything was better than nothing. 

“I know that, Specs,” Roman answered and his tone was hard. He’d been on edge for so long, Logan was surprised he hadn’t ground his teeth to dust. “Just look through it to try and find one that might help us. I can cast it if necessary.” Logan added _that_ to his list of things he didn’t know about Roman. 

“You’re capable of casting spells?” Logan asked. 

Roman huffed, shooting him an amused glance. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m capable of lots of things.” For a moment there, he sounded like himself again. “It’s only in my Realm, anyway.” He shifted in his saddle. “And a lot of good it does me when I can’t use it to simply teleport us to our destination.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan began, carefully. “This is _your_ Realm. The Dragon-Witch is a creation of your own. Shouldn't you have full control over… all of this?” 

Roman’s eyes narrowed and he scowled. “After today, I will. I allowed her too much free reign. It was…” He sighed and Logan was startled at how suddenly his mood shifted. It was as if the guilt on his shoulders was suddenly physical, weighing the prince down. “It was to challenge myself. If she had more… free will, then she might have proved a mightier foe. I am a presumptuous imbecile. I’ve learned my lesson, do not worry.” 

It was silent for awhile longer. Eventually, Logan spoke, “you were being proactive. There’s nothing wrong with testing oneself in order to come out stronger in the end.” 

They rode on. They made camp as the sun set. They woke as the sun rose. They rode on. 

The mountain towering above them was intimidating but Logan was as far from frightened as possible. He had priorities and he trusted Roman. Leaving the horses tied to a nearby tree, they continued on foot. The path was treacherous but they kept an eye on each other. Roman’s anger kept his energy up and his senses were on high alert; that it had been so quiet on their entire trip was slightly unsettling and completely suspicious. Eventually, they came to the mouth of a cave. The entrance was lit with torches. 

“This is it.” Roman muttered. He took his phone from one of his pockets (it was strange, seeing the device in such a medieval setting) and sent a text to Remy, letting him know their whereabouts. Logan took one of the torches and stepped closer. “Shall we?” 

Roman took another torch and led the way. Logan followed close behind, keeping a tight grip on his bag. The potions were wrapped in cloth so as not to clang together noisily, but he kept them as still as possible, regardless. It grew cooler the further they ventured and Logan was glad to have worn a scarf instead of his usual necktie. Soon, the sound of bubbling liquid and wood crackling in a fire reached them. The tunnel opened into a wide cavern. In the very center sat a cauldron. Shelves stood against the walls, some hosting books, the others filled with bottled ingredients. A figure stood over a desk with their back turned to Roman and Logan. 

“ _What_ are _you_ doing here?!” Roman shouted and Logan startled at the volume.

They dropped the papers they’d been shuffling through and spun to face the pair. 

“Deceit?” Logan asked in disbelief. 

“I couldn’t ask the same of you,” Deceit snapped, gaze darting nervously around the space. 

“It’s _my_ Fantasy Realm!” Roman retorted, tossing his torch away and storming towards Deceit. Logan stood still, thoroughly confused. “How’d you even get in here!” He was pulling a dagger from his belt and Logan decided then that maybe Roman’s fury was misplaced. 

“Roman!” He called, stepping carefully further into the lair. “He’s not our enemy.” 

Deceit seemed to be holding it together but the smirk he sent towards Logan was not earning him any favors. “On my side, Logan? That’s not surprising at _all_.” 

Roman came to a staggering halt, just an arms reach from Deceit. His grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon. “Have you seen the Dragon-Witch?” 

“That delightful creature?” Deceit grinned but Logan saw no joy behind it. “She left only minutes ago. You just missed her.” 

Roman released a frustrated cry and flung the dagger he’d been holding so tightly into a shelf. The book it imbedded itself into fell to the ground. “Would you stop talking like… like _that!_ I… We need to help Virgil! So for once in your damn life, just give us an honest answer!” 

Logan gestured impatiently in Deceit’s direction. “I suggest you listen to him.” 

“She’s been out for half an hour,” Deceit responded after a moment. He bent to pick the notes up. “And I know why you’re here. It’s…” He hesitated, shuffling through the pages. “It’s what I’m here for as well.” 

Roman growled, fed up by now with Deceit’s manner of speaking. He instead took to exploring the cavern, tearing through the shelves, looking for a solution. _Any_ solution. Logan approached Deceit and looked over what remained still on the wooden surface. “Have you found anything helpful?” He asked, willing to accept what ever assistance they could get at this point.

“No,” Deceit told him softly. “There was a handheld mirror here but the moment I got near it, it disappeared.” 

“And where was the last place you saw the object in question?” Logan asked, grouping more papers together, as if he would find the mirror underneath them. 

“I already told you, Lo–,” Deceit paused, finally getting a good look at Logan. He smirked, “er, Detective Holmes.”

“What—” Logan began to ask before Deceit pointed to his scarf. It was the same one he used when dressing up as Sherlock Holmes. Logan frowned at him. “Very funny.” 

“It was here.” He motioned to the table. “I don’t know if it just went invisible or if she could see me through it and teleported it to herself before I could take it.”

“… Do you mean to say, she might know that you’re here?” Logan asked slowly, turning on the spot to face the entrance of the lair. 

“I suppose,” Deceit said without care, right up until Logan tugged on the end of his capelet. Deceit pivoted as well. 

“Well, well, well,” the Dragon-Witch purred, “what a pleasant surprise.” 

“ _You!_ ” Roman bellowed. He yanked another dagger from his belt and flung it at her without hesitation. A wave of her hand had the projectile tossed away but Roman was already running towards her, sword drawn. She conjured a staff from thin air and parried Roman’s attack as he swung at her. “What have you done to Virgil!” 

Logan dropped his torch and rifled through his satchel. Handing the spell book to Deceit, he sorted through the potions, trying to read their labels in the low light. “See if you can find anything useful in there, won’t you?” Logan requested. Deceit muttered something about what good it would do if he couldn’t cast magic but did as asked. The clanging of metal on metal rang throughout the cavern as Roman and the Dragon-Witch traded blows. 

“How _is_ the little storm cloud doing?” The Dragon-Witch queried sweetly. “I do hope he’s feeling alright. He hasn’t completed his end of our bargain yet.” 

“And he never will!” Roman spat, “not so long as I am breathing!” Taking the last small knife from on his person, Roman aimed it for the Dragon-Witch’s side. She couldn’t block _all_ of his attacks and the blade sunk into her skin. Roman twisted it as she gasped, faltering in her defenses. Roman pushed harder against her staff. 

Quite suddenly, Logan appeared. Grabbing a fistful of the Dragon-Witch’s hair, he tugged her head back and, with her mouth open in agony and surprise, forced a potion down her throat. He backed away just as quickly, pulling Roman along with him as he did. When Roman began to protest, Logan held the bottle up for Roman to see. It was labeled _Weakening_. Sure enough, the Dragon-Witch fell to her knees. Holding her side as she gasped, a laugh trickled from her lips. “Aren’t you a brave little thing,” she sneered at Logan. 

“How’s this?” Deceit asked, shoving the spell book in Roman’s face. Roman elbowed Deceit in surprise and the trait backed away, grumbling. The title on the page was in bold lettering: _Teller of Truths._

“How’d someone like _you_ find something like _this,_ ” Roman snarked. 

“Roman.” Logan said, in his best scolding Patton tone. 

“Apologies,” Roman amended, though he sounded like he only half meant it. He wasted no time in chanting the spell. Logan made yet another note to ask Roman what language it was in and when he had learned it. Sparks gathered at his fingertips before he held his hand out towards the Dragon-Witch.

“What was the deal you made with Virgil?” His voice echoed throughout the lair. Logan watched as the Dragon-Witch struggled to keep her mouth clamped shut, to resist answering the question. Eventually, the magic took hold, and though she spoke haltingly, she spoke true.

“To break your curse, his own would drain him of energy until every last drop of it was _mine._ ” She hissed, narrowing her eyes. “He’d have been volatile because of it, negatively impacting your host, so that I could easier take over.” 

Logan wondered how much of that Virgil had _actually_ agreed to and how much of it had been fine print. 

“Is there a way to lift his curse without creating another?” 

“No.” A layer of tension fell over the Sides. 

“Do you have anything in here that can do it?”

“…” It looked like she was going to bite her own tongue off. 

“Do you. Have anything. In here. That can do it?”

“Yes.” 

For the next ten minutes, Logan and Deceit brought various books and ingredients and potions over while Roman asked if any of them were what would break the curse. Eventually, Deceit returned, carrying a bottle with a viscous, blue liquid inside. The label on it was of a padlock. 

Still bleeding from her side and growing weary from the effects of magic, the Dragon-Witch lowered her head when she saw it in Deceit’s hands. 

“Will this lift Virgil’s curse?” Roman demanded. 

“Yes.” 

Roman’s eyes flashed red as he suddenly let the spell drop. He slammed the book shut. The Dragon-Witch tipped over, falling to her uninjured side. Her eyelids fluttered. “This won’t be the last time, my prince,” she promised, smiling sickeningly up at him. 

“I know,” he told her, resigned. Gesturing for Logan and Deceit to leave before him, Roman followed out after them, walking out backwards and keeping his eyes on the Dragon-Witch until she was no longer visible. He ran the rest of the way out to find Logan preparing for the trip back down the path. Deceit stood awkwardly to the side, potion still held tight in his grasp. 

“Forget the horses,” Roman said, waving a hand. Though they were all the way at the bottom of the mountain and not currently visible, Logan could only assume Roman had sent them back to their stables. “Put that,” he pointed to the antidote, “in your bag.” Logan carefully took it from Deceit, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second. 

“Until next time, then,” Deceit began before Roman was taking one of his hands in his own. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Roman snapped, though there was no heat behind it. He took Logan’s hand in his other. “Hold tight.”


	10. prompt #10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well I definitely do not want to be included!”
> 
> “…Dee, would you like to play Twister with us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief unconsciousness, mentions of previous injury/burn, minor injuries, potion use, a tiny bit of self-hatred. sympathetic deceit.
> 
> and that's a wrap!! for everyone that stuck through it, thank you so much. this is the first chaptered _anything_ i have ever finished and i hope it’s satisfying. i improvised 90% of it but i think i managed to tie up all the loose ends! again, make sure to read chapters 6 - 9 for context on what's going on in this chapter!

Roman dropped the hands he was holding and collapsed. 

“Ro?!” Patton cried, jumping out of his chair by Virgil’s bed and rushing to the prince’s side. “Is he okay? What happened?” He pulled Roman into his arms and patted him gently on the cheek. “Did you win? Oh, hi, Deceit — Will Virgil be okay??” 

“Shhhhhhh,” Remy interrupted, appearing at Patton’s shoulder, and resting a hand on top of his head. Patton calmed slowly but surely, his panicked breathing subsiding and the tension in his shoulders melting away. The puppy Patton had practically adopted padded around the pair on the floor, whining.

“Roman’s okay,” Logan began, pulling his satchel off. “We had an encounter with the Dragon-Witch. I assume his fight with her and the magic he cast afterwards—” (“ _magic?_ ” Patton whispered), “—took more energy out of him then he let on. And then, he went and sunk us out of the Fantasy Realm and directly to this room, which was foolish, to be quite honest.” Logan approached Virgil, who was stirring from his sleep due to all the noise, no doubt. “We did win and Virgil _should_ be okay.” 

Deceit took a step back, edging closer to the door. Patton caught onto the hem of his pants leg and looked up at him from where he sat, Roman still cradled against his chest. “Did you help?” He asked quietly. Tears were shining in his eyes. 

Deceit caught Logan’s gaze from across the room. “He did,” Logan answered for him. 

“Nice,” Remy shot finger guns to Deceit. 

“ _Hhhnnn,_ ” Roman groaned. 

Patton gasped and looked down at him. “Ro, honey?? Take it easy, you’re safe now.”

Roman did the exact _opposite_ of taking it easy, because of course he did. Flailing out of Patton’s hold, he sat up, and looked around the room with wide eyes. He eventually found Logan at Virgil’s side and staggered up; he swayed and very nearly fell over. Remy vanished his tumbler (was he ever without it?) with a wave of his hand and caught Roman before he could hit the floor again. 

“Chill out, boss,” Remy scolded. “Sit down, I’m going to get the first aid kit.” 

Patton got to his feet and guided Roman to the chair he’d previously been occupying. “I’m not worried about me,” Roman complained, gesturing to Logan. “Give him the potion already!” 

“The what?” Patton asked, looking between the two. 

Logan retrieved the bottle and removed the cork from it. “This was in the Dragon-Witch’s lair. Roman used a truth telling spell on her and this is the only thing that will break his curse while _also_ stopping her from getting to anybody else.” 

Roman was leaning over Virgil, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “His temperature hasn’t gone down, has it?” He asked Patton, worry thick in his tone. He took a fresh cloth from the bedside table and dipped it in the bowl of ice water. Laying it on over Virgil’s skin, Roman looked again to Logan. “It’ll work, right?” He sounded desperate. 

Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not know.” He swirled the bottle slightly in his grasp, watching as the liquid moved with the motion. “This is all very… foreign to me.” 

“Only one way to find out,” Deceit spoke up, stood exactly still where they’d left him. There was no doubting how uncomfortable he felt in the room but his expression gave him away easily. He was just as worried as the rest of them. 

Roman slid his hand under Virgil’s head just as Remy reappeared. “We’re patching you up next, gurl,” he told Roman, setting the first aid kit on the end of the bed. 

Lifting Virgil’s head carefully, Roman waited for Logan to move next. Logan put the opening of the bottle to Virgil’s lips and poured. Virgil seemed conscious enough to understand what was happening and he was certainly dehydrated, so he didn’t hesitate in downing the entire thing. Roman let him back down, resting his head against the pillow. Logan put the empty bottle into the satchel and then allowed Roman to disappear the entire thing back to his room. 

For a moment, they all stood with bated breath. It looked again like Patton might start crying. The puncture wounds and burn on Virgil’s neck began to shimmer, glowing the very same blue as the potion, before the light faded, and his skin was left unmarred. Remy whistled, low. It was several more minutes before Virgil moved. His eyelids fluttered, adjusting to the light, and Patton hurried to turn off the ceiling light, and turn on the lamp in the corner of the room. When Virgil lifted his arm to try and press a hand against his head, he only got about a third of the way, before his arm flopped back down. 

“ _Ugh,_ ” he groaned.

“Oh my god,” Patton sobbed before throwing himself on top of Virgil. 

“Ah!” He exclaimed, startled. “What—” He blinked, looking at the scene around him. Roman and Logan stood on either side of him, Remy was at the foot of the bed, and… Was that _Deceit_ by the door? “Oh.” He said finally, as his last memory came rushing back to him. 

“Yes, _oh,_ ” Logan said and they could tell already that he was about to launch into a long winded speech. “What you did was incredibly dangerous, Virgil. It would have behooved you to work together with us on helping Roman out of his predicament. The Dragon-Witch is an adversary that only he has faced before and, despite how perilous _this_ was, she could have done much worse to you.” Virgil was surprised to hear Logan’s tone grow tight with… fear? Worry? He knew the logical side was capable of emotions but to be concerned over _him?_

Patton was still sniffling but he’d curled up next to Virgil now, instead of laying on top of him, and quite possibly suffocating him. Roman spoke next. “I shouldn’t have simply thanked you for _what you did to save me from such a terrible fate_ —” He sounded frustrated, quoting himself. “I should have sought you out and made sure that you were okay. It wasn’t very princely of me. I am… very grateful for you.” Roman was going to need reassuring after this, Virgil could tell already, and Virgil was going to make sure he’d be the one to do it. 

“Kiddo,” Patton whimpered and Virgil turned his head to look at him. “You’re so brave for helping Roman. I love you so much, you did such a good job.” Virgil’s cheeks flushed hot but it was a welcome warmth after the fever he’d been suffering from all this time. 

“Alright, Roman, your turn.” Remy said, snapping his fingers. Roman glared at him but stripped out of his shirt regardless. He was covered in minor scrapes and bruises from his battle with the Dragon-Witch but they all knew that if it wasn’t taken care of now, he’d never get around to it himself. While Remy took care of Roman, Deceit shifted closer. Virgil eyed him warily. 

“I’m not glad you’re feeling better,” Deceit sneered, but there was far less malice to it than usual. “Finding the antidote to your stupid mistake wasn’t a hassle at all. Leave the idiotic heroics to Roman, why don’t you?” 

“Hey!” 

“He helped Logan and Roman,” Patton whispered into Virgil’s ear. 

“… Thanks,” Virgil said to Deceit. He glanced to Roman and smiled tiredly at him before looking to Logan and giving him a small nod. “I’m… gonna take a nap now,” he told Patton, “you’re really comfortable.” 

Patton contained his squeal, barely. The puppy scrambled onto the bed and curled up against Virgil’s other side. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

[~] [~] [~]

By lunch time the next day, Virgil was feeling fit as a fiddle. Or, as fit as a fiddle as the embodiment of Anxiety could be. Thomas, thankfully, hadn’t felt any different during Virgil’s bedrest. Whether it was because it was short-lived enough or because the curse hadn’t had enough time to fully set in, the others couldn’t be sure. Roman had gone back to the Fantasy Realm that morning and adjusted the power balance. The Dragon-Witch wouldn’t be taking advantage of his weaknesses anytime soon. 

Patton was making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Logan was setting the table when Roman came bounding down the stairs. “I’ve just had the most brilliant idea!” He shouted, startling Virgil, who’d been curled up in a beanbag in the corner, reading a book. The puppy snoozing in his lap stayed fast asleep. Virgil glared at Roman, who continued, too excited to notice. “A game after lunch! I found this tucked in the back of the linens closet!” Only now did Virgil realize Roman carrying a box. 

Patton peeked through the cutaway between the kitchen and the dining area. “Twister?!” He asked eagerly, recognizing the colored dots. 

“Pass,” Virgil said in the same moment Logan declared, “no, thank you.” 

“Now listen here,” Patton immediately began to reprimand. “We’re finally all back together and healthy! We’re having some good old family fun! In fact…” Patton stomped out of the kitchen and to the foot of the stairs. “Deceit!” He called up to the second floor. 

It took a few seconds, but Deceit eventually appeared at the landing. Before Patton could even start, Deceit took one look at the box in Roman’s hands, and shook his head. “Well, I definitely do _not_ want to be included!” 

Patton’s hands curled up beneath his chin. His Puppy Eyes and Pout combo were suddenly in full effect. “… Dee, would you like to play Twister with us?” 

An hour and a half later found them full on lunch and stood around the Twister mat. Remy, sitting on the back of the couch, with a puppy nipping at his toes, flicked the spinner on the board. “Right foot, green.”

**Author's Note:**

> read all of these on my tumblr, [notveryglittery](https://notveryglittery.tumblr.com/tagged/sanderssidespromptsummer/chrono)!


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